Reid's Drug Addiction
by Daiuchuu Ginga
Summary: Reid's drug addiction behind the scenes
1. A downward spiral

"This ends now. Confess your sins." Reid's only answer was a whimper so Hankle punched him. "Confess!"

"I haven't done anything!" Reid cried out only as Hankle hit him so hard the chair rocked dangerously close to overbalancing. "Tobias, help me!" He begged.

"He can't help you, he's weak. Confess!" Hankle demanded.

"Tobias..." Reid pleaded desperately, stopping abruptly as Hankle's fist struck his face. "Confess your sins."

"No." Reid sobs.

This time Hankle does tip over the chair causing Reid to crash to the floor. Within second he lost control over his body as it begins uncontrollably convulsing.

"That's the Devil vacating your body", is the last thing he heard.

Reid's eyes shot open as he awoke gasping for air. His whole body hurt as if the torture was two minutes ago, rather than two months. Psychosomatic pain the therapist had said,

"Considering what you have been through, it is hardly surprising that you are experiencing some after affects. It really is..."

"It's not psychosomatic!" Reid insisted, "When the chair tipped back, I banged my head and had a seizure. I could have damaged my brain. Brain stem, Thalamus, and Cerebral Cortex. All three of these have been associated with pain and..."

"And all three were completely normal during the brain scan", she gently interjected.

That was the last time he saw her. It wasn't helping him he had decided. He knew just as much if not more about traumatic experiences and how to deal with them. There was no point in him sitting in the "calming" pastel coloured room a second longer. He wasn't even sure she had graduated from anywhere never mind the prestigious college the certificate above her desk had claimed. He was in intense pain and she suggested writing down his feelings! If the professionals wouldn't help him, he'd help himself.

He rubbed his sleep heavy eyes and leaned over for the needle.

The days passed in a flurry of serial killers and pain. The misery of the world only receding when he gave in to the call of the needle. Logically he knew this wasn't the right way to cope. In fact, he knew of five common and seventeen possible nasty side effects to the drugs. Not to mention the 49,814 people that died from drug use yearly in the US alone. But it was the help he needed to continue functioning. The team didn't need broken traumatised Reid, they needed the genius and without the drugs his brain felt like it had been run through a blender.

"Post mortem suggests the unsub raped the victims before killing them". It was Monday morning and the week had begun with an unsub who after killing people drilled a hole in their head and filled it with acid.

"You know, he reminds me of the 1991 killer Dahmer. He had the same MO." Reid commented.

"So, we might have a copycat?" Hotchner suggested. "But what is the purpose of the drilling?"

"Dahmer said he wasn't satisfied by the actual killing. He said, I tried to create living zombies with uric acid in the drill [to the head], but it never worked. No, the killing was not the objective. I just wanted to have the person under my complete control, not having to consider their wishes, being able to keep them there as long as I wanted." Reid quoted perfectly. The team stared at him aghast. "So, we are possibly looking for someone trying to create an army of zombies. Sounds like a typical Monday." Morgan laughed trying to lighten the mood. "Unless you need my talent for anything else, I am going to go back to the sanctuary of my computers and cute new born kittens." Garcia announced. Hotchner nodded. "That's fine Garcia but send us the next of kin details we need to interview the families. Looks like we are headed to Atlanta Wheels up in thirty." "Reid, you okay?" Morgan caught him on the way out. "You look tired. Are you still having nightmares?" Every time I close my eyes Reid mentally replied, "Now and again", he said aloud. "PTSD is normal and to be expected you know, if you need to talk..." "I'm actually feeling quite well. Did you know nightmares are thought by some to be beneficial? Evolutionary theory states that for anything to still exist in our modern minds and bodies, they must be a purpose to it. Something that helps the human species to survive. Some scientists suggest that nightmares are our minds way of dealing with emotional turmoil while we sleep leaving our waking minds to concentrate on other things." "If you're sure". Morgan replied unconvinced.

Choking on the foaming saliva gathered in his throat Reid struggled to breath. "Tobias!" He spluttered. "Please. I'm going to die!"

"The devil is vacating your body".

"NO!" Reid shot up in his bed. Sweat pouring from his face. He wiped it away with his trembling hand.

It was thirty-nine hours later. The case had been wrapped up relatively quickly. Following on from the copycat theory, Hotchner had asked Garcia to check all mail Dahmer had received prior to his murder in 1995.

"This is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles never mind a haystack! Death threats aside, all his mail was from creepy creepy worshippers!"

"Look for males only. Probably would have used a pseudonym. This man is contacting his hero but his lack of confidence will stop him identifying himself."

"That narrows it down. Needle in a haystack".

Soon after she had come across "Deadman" who she later managed to identify as Charles Pitman. From there it had simply been a matter of apprehending him.

He had been with his latest victim when they arrived and brandished him as a meat shield.

"Charles let him go." Reid called out, "You don't need to hurt him." He tried to think of the right words but his thoughts were blocked by a searing pain. "Charles…" The intensity grew in his head. The pain stopping him mid-sentence, a cry of pain escaping his lips. Gideon used this moment of confusion to diffuse the hostage situation and Hotchner arrested Pitman.

"Reid, what happened man?" Morgan asked concerned.

"Nothing. A headache that's all". He muttered.

"You need rest."

He needed the needle. He gladly accepted Hotchner's offer to leave immediately and headed home. After injecting, the pain subsided and he'd fallen into an uneasy sleep and the familiar nightmare.

Now awake, he stood up to get a glass of water. It was three minutes past four in the morning so after the drink he led back down in an attempt to get a few more hours sleep. That's when he heard the voice, "Devil vacating your body". He jumped to his feet,

"Who's there?" His voice shook.

No answer.

He quickly scouted his apartment but it was empty and silent. He had just dozed off without realising he reasoned with himself but an uneasy feeling had settled into his mind.


	2. A helping hand

"That's the devil vacating your body!" He snarled as Reid crashed to the floor. The convulsions began immediately causing his vision to go blurry as he struggled to remain conscious. He tried focusing on a spot next to him but red smoke obscured his view. Reid blinked rapidly in attempt to clear his vision but the room had begun to spin, his limbs felt like they had been weighed down, and he had an overwhelming desire to close his eyes.

"What…wh.w," He murmured weakly unable to force his mouth to form the needed shapes. The question remained unasked. What was that? And were those eyes?

An incessant beeping woke him. Shielding his eyes from the blinding phone light, he read:

'Series of murders in Houston. Briefing in an hour.'

Pulling a shirt towards him, he reluctantly got off the sofa. He had slept there for the last couple of nights. Unwillingly. Regardless of what he had told Morgan about the therapeutic benefits of nightmares, he did his best to elude them every night. He sat up as straight as he could with his book in his hands, last night had been a favourite: _the narrative of John Smith,_ and stayed awake as long as he could. The previous day he had managed to avoid sleep completely but last night he hadn't been so fortunate and had succumbed to its temptation around four am. Only three hours sleep and still it had been terrifying. He splashed icy cold water on his face hoping to hide his sleep deprivation from the others, it would only lead to questions; questions he didn't want to answer.

Unfortunately for him, he worked in the Behavioural Analysist Unit. In a moment of down time Gideon caught him alone,

"What's wrong Reid? I've tried to respect your wish to deal with it alone but you need to know you can talk to me".

"What do you mean?" He feigned ignorance.

"Oh, come on! You're not sleeping. You were short with Prentiss several times today. You are irritable. You're not on top of things. Today you didn't notice the location mistake."

"Neither did anyone else!" Reid snapped defensively.

Gideon wasn't deterred, "They aren't you," he replied simply.

Reid breathed deeply, trying to figure out what to say. Should he even say anything? He respected Gideon greatly but didn't want to risk his job. He decided to be as open as possible without incriminating himself, "I feel lost Gideon. It's like I'm floating past everything but I can't grab hold to centre myself. My mind is full of knowledge, everything I've ever read but there's nothing about how to fix myself; how to make things normal again. I can't think straight. It's like there's an impenetrable fog inside my mind. And I can't sleep at night. I'm having nightmares". He stopped there, wondering if he had said too much but once he had started talking it had all flood out before he could stop himself.

Gideon didn't say anything at first, he just rested his hand on Reid's shoulder in an almost fatherly way. His eyes were so full of sympathy and concern that Reid felt guilty about the Dilaudid; he didn't deserve this care.

"You are an amazing young man Reid but you have been through a traumatic experience, it's going to leave its scars. I know it isn't what you want to hear but you might never be exactly as you was before; that's not in your power. What is in your power is what changes. You can decide if you learn from the horror you experienced or if you hide away. _Escape_." The emphasis in the last word left no doubt in Reid's mind that Gideon knew his secret. He looked away ashamed. "You _will_ come out of the other side. I know you."

Tears welled in Reid's eyes threatening to escape and a lump blocked his throat as he almost whispered, "What if I can't? I'm scared."

"In order to learn the most important lessons in life, one must each day surmount a fear." Gideon quoted.

Reid smiled, "Ralph Waldo Emerson".

"Come here," Gideon pulled him into a hug, "Whatever demons you face, I know you, you'll win".

"I'll try." Reid said. "I promise".


	3. Nightmare?

Having earned three bachelor's degrees and three PHDs Reid knew all about hard work but nothing he had ever done compared to the next forty-eight hours of his life. Truthly, he hadn't realised just how addicted he had become until he tried to stop. Four hours after his confession to Gideon, his mother called ranting about conspiracies amongst the doctors, "they are trying to poison me, they want me to take tablets but I know they'll kill me" and although on the surface he remained calm and rational, "Mum, no one wants to kill you, have you been taking your medication regularly?", inside he felt anxious and honestly rather frustrated. The needle called to him. Two hours after that and he was feeling sick to his stomach and a throbbing headache had developed. Within hours, he felt as if he was suffering from a severe case of flu. He was sweating, vomiting, and had terrible stomach cramps. He tried to stop his shaking hand, recognising all the withdrawal symptoms off Dilaudid and feeling thankful that he was home alone so no one would see the result of his harmful addiction. "Withdrawal symptoms of Dilaudid begin hours after stopping the drug. They peak at 14 hours" he kept repeating it to himself until it became almost like mantra. Holding a hot water bottle against his stomach to ease the cramping he tried to force himself to sleep. "Peak at 14 hours". If he could sleep now, by the time he woke up he could be over the worst of it. The needle called to him louder than ever. That's when he saw one, lying on his bed side table already prepared. All he had to do was inject it. He couldn't stop himself. It was as if it was no longer him in control of his body as it moved automatically; he tied his band around his arm to find a vein and reached for the needle. Calmness descended on him as he imagined the relief it would bring. Tobias' voice echoed in his head, "Tell me it doesn't make it better". It did. It would. Then another, unwanted, voice spoke, "You will come out of the other side" and with it Gideon's concerned face. With a frustrated growl, Reid threw the needle away from him and began to sob. He knew that up to 90% of drug addicts relapsed during recovery, he didn't want to be a statistic yet he had an overwhelming desire to inject. Angry yet scared sobs burst from him until his eyes were red, his throat was sore, and he fell into a fitful sleep.

He was convulsing on the floor once more. His limbs moving out of his control and fear inhabiting every part of his body and mind.

"That's the devil vacating your body." Hankle calmly and coldly stated as red smoke started rising from Reid's body.

His eyes shot open. Pain was coursing through him; his whole body was trembling and his clothes were drenched in sweat. He stood up, catching his bed side table to stop himself falling, and blearily made his way to the bathroom, thinking a warm bath might soothe him physically and emotionally. As he passed the mirror he caught sight of his reflection; he looked awful, pale, and sickly with huge dark shadows beneath his eyes. At this rate, he might have to call in sick tomorrow he mused; he could not let the others see him like this. Then just as he was turning away, something red caught his eye. Smoke. Red smoke. He spun around. No smoke was there. Nervously he studied the mirror again. Still nothing. Obviously, he was still half asleep. He turned on the cold water tap and let it run for a few seconds before splashing it onto his face. It had the desired affect and feeling less groggy, he started to fill the bath. He stared absently at his reflection in the water. Looking at the man before him. It wasn't him or at least it wasn't who he wanted to be. He could beat this. Couldn't he? He swept the reflection away as he encouraged the cold water to spread out equally, but as his face disappeared smoke appeared yet again. Unnerved, Reid jumped back away from the bathtub. Yet the smoke didn't disappear, it was following him. No, it wasn't following him; it was coming from him. Red smoke was billowing out from his chest. "NO!" he shouted. He vigorously splashed water on his face repeatedly until the front of his hair was soaking and his eyes stung. "Wake up. Wake up!" He ordered himself as more smoke appeared and began forming itself before him. He pinched himself leaving small marks all over his arms. Eyes had now appeared in the smoke. Black, empty eyes. "Wake up!" He screamed once more. But he didn't. This nightmare was real.


	4. The Devil Vacates

The devil had vacated his body. Reid fought the urge to continue screaming and forced himself to think logically. He walked into his front room and started scanning his bookshelves searching for anything that could help him right now; anything that could explain _what_ was happening. He wasn't asleep yet this creature couldn't really be here. It certainly seemed real though. It was now hovering in front of him, it's empty black hole eyes bore following him as he paced around the room looking at anything but the demon. Demons. Demons. What did he know about demons.

"For certain minutes at the least, That crafty demon and that loud beast. That plague me day and night, Ran out of my sight; Though I had long perned in the gyre, Between my hatred and desire. I saw my freedom won And all laugh in the sun. William Butler Yeats". He recited.

Even his eidetic memory was failing to bring him any useful information. Except that wasn't the problem here he realised. He was searching the wrong area. It was impossible for an actual demon to be in his house, which meant…

"This is a manifestation produced by my mind as a result of drug withdrawal."

"What if I'm not?" A low voice asked. Reid presumed it came from the demon but couldn't be certain as it didn't actually have a mouth.

He ignored the voice, it didn't exist and therefore couldn't be talking thus it would be irrational to respond. He needed to concentrate on the situation at hand and resolve it. This was easier said than done as the hallucination had now begun following around the room. Thin wispy tentacles had formed and were constantly trying to wrap themselves around his legs. He continued his efforts to ignore them but the "demon" seemed to become more and more persistent until eventually Reid had to grab his sofa to avoid crashing to the floor. He lowered himself onto the sofa – he couldn't be tripped up if he was already sitting. What did he know about drug induced schizophrenia? It could happen during withdrawal. The chance of it happening was…

"It could be schizophrenia".

"No! It can't be." Reid snapped unable to ignore the apparition when it spoke aloud the fear hidden in the corner of his mind.

"Why can't it be? There's no reason it can't be".

Reid refused to answer and closed his eyes in an attempt to block out reality and think clearly about the situation. The demon continued relentlessly.

"Schizophrenia. You knew it was coming. You always knew. You tried hiding from it but here it is".

"Only 1.2% of Americans are diagnosed with schizophrenia. It's statistically improbable!" Reid reasoned covering his ears with his hands.

"But that increases when a parent is diagnosed and you are in the average age for onset". The voice goaded as clearly as before.

"It's not schizophrenia!" He shouted. He grabbed his cushions and held them tightly over his ears.

"You can't block me out, I'm in your head. You know this." It growled. "Why have you suddenly stopped thinking? Could it be the schizophrenia ruining your brain? Why are you so scared of accepting it?"

Reid jumped up angrily, all attempts to ignore the demon abandoned, and stared into the black hole eyes, "Because I've got too much to offer! I can do so much more. If it's schizophrenia then it'll ruin everything!"

"The world doesn't care about fairness!" The demon laughed callously.

Reid sat back down shaking and forced himself to inhale and exhale slowly. "What you have to say doesn't matter. You aren't real."

"Are you sure?"

The smoky figure billowed towards him at an alarming rate until he blocked everything else from sight. Reid closed his eyes and covered his ears once more, determined to ignore it until it disappeared but he could feel the wispy tendrils pulling at his fingers and the smoke pushing behind his eyelids.

"Arghhh!" He involuntarily screamed as his eyes suddenly burned as if someone had poured acid onto them. He ran towards the kitchen, blindly searching for water to pour on them. The pain felt like it had travelled through his whole body and every muscle twitched as if trying to shake out the pain causing him to fall to the floor heavily. THUD! He caught his head on a unit on the way down. He lay on the floor stunned. The pain in his eyes had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived but his vision was blurry and a throbbing headache had already begun to form.

The smoky demon appeared above him. "Now do you accept I'm real?"

"No." Reid spluttered.

The smoke descended on him. Tendrils grasping his throat and smoke filling his mouth, ears, nose and eyes. Reid flailed helplessly on the floor as he struggled to breathe but it was in vain, the grip didn't even loosen. He desperately tried taking a breath but every time he opened his mouth more smoke flooded in. His vision blurred further until he could barely see the unit just inches away. He was going to die. He knew it. He tried to fight, fear and an instinct to survive kept him going right up to the moment his body abruptly became limp.


	5. Bliss

Cheerful chirping could be heard outside as birds flew by the window, slightly opened to let in a small breeze, and landed on the bird feeder.

Reid, five years old, pushed himself up on one elbow to watch them, marvelling at their flight,

"Mum, how do birds fly?"

Reid's mum, lowered herself down onto the bed next to him and pulled him into a one armed hug before replying,

"They use their wings".

"Yes, but how?" Reid sighed like an adult dealing with a rather "slow" child.

His mum's eyes lit up as she laughed, "You really are intelligent, aren't you? You keep asking questions son, it's the way to become clever". She hugged him tightly.

"Muuumm?" Reid moaned impatiently.

"Okay, okay," She laughed, "The bird's wings are made up of strong feathers and muscles. It's this and the fact that birds are actually really light that helps them fly".

"But what about air current?"

"Yes that's important too but I thought you was supposed to be ill today? Shouldn't you be resting that beautiful brain of yours?" She stroked his hair lovingly, "Here have some water. Water is important you know…"

"It makes up over sixty percent of my body". Reid answered her sentence before taking a big gulp.

"Slow sips, I don't want you being sick again. How about we read a story?"

He nodded happily while slowly sipping water.

"Which one?"

Reid pointed to a large hardback book with different animals on the cover, "That one. It has a bird".

"That's a bit difficult don't you think?"

"No." He replied simply.

She stood up and fetched the book, "Okay. Origin of Species".

Reid snuggled up to his mum and lay contentedly. He didn't mind being ill. It meant he got to spend the day with his mum reading books. He closed his eyes and let her words wash over him.

"Wake up, time to wake up".

He opened his eyes slowly, wondering why she was waking him; she usually encouraged rest when he was ill. His stomach was hurting and his head felt like he had been hit by the book they were reading.

His eyes focused on the bookcase in front of him. It was tall, much taller than the one in his room. Of course! This _was_ his room; well front room. He had been dreaming. Remembering another time he had felt so awful but when it had been so much easier to manage.

His nose scrunched up in disgust as a foul smell drifted towards him. Looking down he realised he was lying on the floor covered in vomit. The memories came flooding back. The drugs, the withdrawal . . . the demon. He jumped to his feet, looking around himself frantically. The apartment was empty. He let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding and felt his heart start to slow. It was over. The worst was over. He _could_ do this.

"Wake up," A voice behind him ordered, "time to wake up".

Reid spun around and sure enough there it was: the demon.

"NOOO!" He wailed.

"You thought I had gone? You thought it was that easy?"

Reid let out an ear shattering scream. He was stuck in a nightmare and couldn't wake up.

"That won't help." The demon mocked, "Only one thing will. You know it".

"NO! I can do this. I don't want to just be another statistic. I don't want to fail. I'm better than that!"

He fell to the floor and curled up into a ball wishing he could return to his dream where his mum would stroke his hair and read stories to him.

"I can help you. The needle can help. Unless I need to prove how real I am again?"

Reid began to shake with fear. He was terrified and in so much pain. Every inch of him felt like it had been hit repeatedly. He looked at the needle prepared on the table within arm's reach. He didn't remember preparing it but he didn't care. Looking at the demon, he picked up the band and tied it around his arm and tapped until veins appeared. He stopped hesitating.

"I am never going to go away." The demon laughed.

"Yes you are!" He shouted, tears of shame running down his face. He picked up the needle, stabbed it into his vein and plunged the narcotic into his system. The demon faded before his eyes and the pain and fear were replaced with blissful serenity.


	6. Faith and friendship

"Spencer! Spencer wake up!"

Reid struggled to rouse himself as he fell in and out of consciousness. Through blurry eyes he saw the concerned face of Gideon leaning down next to him. Groaning he tried to push himself to a sitting position but his arms felt weak and ineffective.

"Spencer, you awake? What have you done?"

"No..noth…" Reid slurred.

"I think we have to get you to hospital." Gideon said from seemingly far away. This statement pulled an unwilling Reid back to reality and his eyes finally opened properly.

"No! I can't." He told Gideon.

"You aren't well, the doctors can help you."

"No!" He said again, attempting again and this time managing to pull himself into a seating position leaning against the sofa. He saw the empty needle now lying next to him on the floor, he tried to hit it under the sofa but saw Gideon watching him,

"I already know Spencer. Maybe I should have said something sooner, I just hoped you could manage and I didn't want to jeopardise your job because we need you. Perhaps that was selfish of me." Gideon said sadly, "What have you done?"

Reid remained silent, looking at the floor so he wouldn't have to look at Gideon.

"Come on, let's get up." Gideon placed a hand under Reid's arm and carefully helped guide him to sit on the sofa. "Sit here and collect your thoughts. Everything will fix itself." He reassured him before walking to the kitchen.

Reid glanced around the room and was startled by the sight; it looked like a crime scene. Papers and books lied haphazardly on the floor, a cup had been smashed and had blood on the pieces, and on the floor, was not one but four empty needles. He frowned at them trying to recall what had happened. His mind, for the first time ever, was empty.

Gideon returned carrying a couple of cups of tea and handed one to him,

"Here, drink. Your lips are dry and cracked."

"Why are you here?" He asked, his voice breaking towards the end.

"You didn't turn up at work and I was worried. It's not like you."

"I requested a couple of days off". Reid replied truthfully. Knowing that coming off the drugs could cause unwanted side effects and not wanting the team to find out how much he was struggling, he had arranged a couple of days break under the guise of visiting his mother. He had felt guilty lying but was unsure what else to do.

"What day do you think it is?" Gideon asked blowing his drink.

"Thursday." Reid answered confused by such a strange question.

"It's Saturday."

Reid's mind started racing. Saturday? That wasn't possible! He had left work Wednesday and then stopped taking the drugs. Then . . . his mind flew to the horrors of the demon but he shook them away . . . maybe Friday at the latest but Saturday? "It can't be."

"It is." Gideon insisted showing Reid his phone calendar, "Now why don't you tell me what has been going on. You're still using Dilaudid." It wasn't a question.

"No." Reid said bewildered. "I decided to stop. I remember."

"Then why is there empty needles on the floor, a house that looks like it was raided and sick on your top?"

Reid's nose shrivelled in disgust as he suddenly realised Gideon was right, He pulled his vest jumper off and placed it on the floor for now.

"I don't know." He whispered. He sat silently trying to remember his missing days. The demon loomed into his vision and this time he fought the instinct to shove it away. He recalled the horrendous events and eventually the attempt to drive it away, "I think I need help." He said quietly.

"We all need help sometimes. It isn't surprising with the world we live in. We face demons every day, sometimes it just happens to be our own personal ones."

Reid spun around to face him, sudden urgency in his voice, "I know I have messed up but you can't tell anyone. I will lose my job and it means so much to me."

"I don't think I can hide this anymore." Gideon replied uncertain.

"Please Gideon, I can get better I know it." Reid pleaded.

"Tell me what happened." Was the firm response.

So, Reid told him. The drugs. The decision to stop. The withdrawal. His voice faltered as he reached the demon and he searched Gideon's face for signs that he had decided Reid was too unstable to protect, but it remained emotionless as Gideon nodded for him to continue. Taking the drugs again. The fact he couldn't recall the last day. When he had finished neither spoke for a while. They sat next to each other and sipped their drinks, both deep in thought. Finally, Reid broke the silence,

"I want to be strong because I want you to believe I can do it but what if. . ." He hesitated as his eyes filled with tears, "What if I can't? I really tried to stop but it was terrifying. I don't want that to happen again. What if I'm just not strong enough?" Tears began to pour down his face and he stopped to take a deep breath before continuing, "I'm not wise like you, or strong like Morgan and Hotchner. All I have is my brain and if that is failing . . ."

"Doctor Spencer Reid, you are the most talented man I know and you are much stronger _and_ wiser than you realise. I believe in you. I see how strong you really are inside and I think you can win your demons and for this reason I will give you another chance…"

Reid interrupted, "Thank you. You won't regret it."

". . . But it comes with a condition. I know a great place that can help you. I will arrange it with Hotch that you get some time off to go there."

"I don't need to. I can do it al. . ." Reid faltered as Gideon looked around the room pointedly, "Okay." He conceded.

"When you return you will go to a group I know about on a regular basis. Don't worry I will sort everything out with Hotch and as long as you stick to these conditions, your job is safe."

"Thank you." Reid said quietly.

"Okay," Gideon drained the last of his cup and stood up, "Let's get this place sorted. It smells foul!"

Reid gave a weak smile and joined him, "I won't let you down Gideon."

"I know you won't kid."


End file.
